


Bayou Blues

by Adry1412



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Back Wood Locals, Bayou Setting, Brief Necrophilia, Cannibalism, Derogatory Language, Forced Cannibalism, M/M, Mental Illness, Merle says fucked up things, bottom!daryl, nothing graphic, this fic is fucked up and I'm proud, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adry1412/pseuds/Adry1412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Shane are on vacation and rowing deeper and deeper into the bayou, off the beaten path. They meet Merle and Daryl, a rough pair of talented singing brothers with not so normal eating habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bayou Blues

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm kind of proud of this one. It's very dark and strange, but it's been in my head for quite a while. It's a mix of Deliverance/Texas Chainsaw Massacre/Silence of the Lambs. (You know, my favorites lol)  
> \---  
> Warning for cannibalism, forced cannibalism, dubious intentions, derogatory terms for mentally ill/mental challenged (!!!be warned!!!)

The house is barely a shack, pushed deep, way back in the thicket of backwater land. A crumpled steel sheet over some wood making a makeshift roof over the porch, it's only access being the rope ladder that he had strung up years ago, when he had been young and much more adventurous.  
So he sits, bare feet hanging over the side and he plucks his banjo softly, not playing attention to anything but the sun setting in front of him.  
It sets next to them, shadows cast sideways along the trembling pines and making them look like giants, their thick roots invading the mossy, bayou muck. Shadows dance in the warm breeze and he remembers being young, fearing the 'monsters' that hid behind the tall trees.

His brother sits on the porch, rocking chair in motion in tune to the guitar he's strumming and cigarette smoke escaping through his nose and the side of his mouth. It's not in tune, it never really is, but Daryl'd be damned if it didn't sound like inherited sin itself. It's dark, earthy sound coming from weather worn nickel strings and every plucked chord connecting to one in his chest, making a lump in his throat that he swallows quickly.  
He knows Merle wants him to sing. His rough, drawling voice commanding obedience as he blows out smoke and calls out to his younger brother, soft and almost nostalgic, "Sing for me, boy."  
So he goes. His twangy, young voice harmonizing with the raspy, smoke filled hums of his older brother. Years of smoking and drinking had made Merle's voice hard, his face reflecting it with deep lines and a near constant scowl. No one messed with the brothers, Merle's large frame and mean face making most people turn and run, his dark grey eyes deterring even the most dangerous of men.  
Daryl wasn't like him. Tiny and wiry, freckled faced with large blue eyes; he always resembled their mother, or at least what Merle had said she looked like. He never meet her, his birth causing complications and ending her life. Their father had made sure to blame him, belt marring a young boys skin. He didn't care though, those days were long behind them.

So he sits, sings a song he's known the words to since childhood, and let's the crickets and toads harmonize around them.  
Merle seemed satisfied, a slow grunt escaping with the smoke and Daryl'd be damned if his older brother didn't have a small, ghost of a smile daring to force its way out from under his stiff lips. He couldn't see it, but he could sense it. The small pull of pride he got from entertaining his brother.

It had ended when Daryl's eyes snap upward, movement coming down in spirals of water along the swamp's edge. He watched as two men on a small boat came into focus behind the denser part of the tree line and both rowing slowly in their direction. He heard Merle cock his shotgun before the rocking chair creaked loudly, thumping against the wooden house as heavy footsteps walked to the edge of their porch.  
Not a lot of people came out this way, their house only accessible via boat, especially not two well-to-do looking city folks with large grins and mirth in their eyes. He felt his stomach rumble a bit before they spoke.  
It was the taller one, a broad chested man with large, brown eyes and a crooked nose. "Heya folks! Heard y'all singing and thought we'd stop by and say hello."  
Merle didn't say a thing, so neither did Daryl. His gaze attracted to the other man, large blue eyes and wavy, soft looking hair. Broad shoulders and a sweet smile, he was gorgeous and Daryl felt his face go red.  
"Was wondering if y'all were gonna sing another song. See, me and friend are on vacation and-"

"Songs ain't for you."

They seemed stunned, brows furrowing and lips curling downwards.  
"Now, no need to be hostile gentlemen. We're sorry for intruding but y'all seem talented and it was nice to hear something besides these damn cicadas and toads."  
Merle doesn't say anything, just stares at them and Daryl is stuck, cheeks warm and stomach rumbling. Before he knows it, Merle's laughing. He puts his shotgun down and calls over to them men.  
"Why don't y'all come inside for a beer? Take a break from your rowing or whatever."  
That did the trick. Both men smile as they bring their boat softly to shore and step up to the porch.

They all step inside their tiny shack. Overflowing ashtrays and dirty magazines cover the coffee table in front of their old, bunny eared tv. It's all Merle's, Daryl not being allowed to read the material, not that he minded.  
It stinks a bit and Rick and Shane seem uneasy. Their eyes darting between the broken sofa and every inch of stained carpet and wallpaper. It's long faded, dirty and peeling, stained with cigarette smoke and ash, the old flower design unrecognizable after years of abuse. The kitchen is small, dirty dishes in the sink, some flies buzzing around dark red stained cutlery.  
The three sit at the table, Daryl off and on top of the counter, thin legs folded Indian style. Four beers and two sets of uneasy eyes, the matching familiar blues intense and interested.  
"Quite a place you got here, umm.."  
"Merle Dixon. That there's Daryl."  
"I'm Shane, and this is my friend Rick."  
Rick speaks, a little high and shaking as he tries to joke, "You ever sit in a chair, Daryl?" His laugh is met with silence, Merle frowning a little and Daryl shrinking on himself. "I didn't mean to be insulting, I just- you know, like the roof and now the counter.."

Daryl dashes, thin, jean clad legs taking him out the screen door and into the woods behind the house.  
"Don't mind him, he's skittish. More like a damn cat than a person."  
"Is he alright?" Shane asks, shooting sideway glances at his friend.  
"Whatchu mean?" Merle voice deep and eyes narrow towards the crooked nosed man.

"Like, in the head? He alright?"

Merle doesn't say anything, just stares at Shane with dark, angry eyes, anger boiling over until it breaks. He smirks and goes for another beer, "Doubt it. Poor boy's probably retarded." He sits again, bringing two more beers for his guests. "But he's my baby brother. Gotta take care of him."

\---  
"I'm gonna step outside for a moment."

Rick steps out onto the porch, letting the stale bayou air fill his lungs as he tries to control the itch under his skin. He reaches for a cigarette, letting the soothing smoke float into his chest and relax his mind.  
His hair is sticking to the nape of his neck and he's not entirely sure if it's the heat or the claustrophobic nature of the shack that has him dripping in sweat. Everything seems too close, the tall, warped trees that seem to bend and turn into monstrous forms above his head before sinking deep into the damp ground, the sticky looking walls of the shack the two brothers seem to call home, and the rough words that spill from the oldest Dixon.

His head shoots up when a branch cracks and he finds himself face to face with the overall clad boy, Daryl.  
He's a few feet away, thin body hidden behind the black bark of the closest pine tree. His eyes are wide, bright blues staring at him as if he can see the breath escaping Rick's lungs. The boy seems nervous, pale hand picking at the bark of the tree mindlessly as his eyes search and scan every inch of Rick's form.

Rick smiles, remembering the rather harsh words Merle had said about his brother. The insults about his mental health and nervous nature. He hates to admit that he can see where Merle had pointed out his baby brother's short comings though he wouldn't use such derogatory phrases.  
"Hey! Daryl, right?"

The boy smiles, small and shy. "You should leave."

Rick furrows his brows, confused, "Why do you say that?"

Daryl giggles, lips curling around his teeth. "Because you look delicious."

\---  
"Shane, let's go."

"What? Why?"

"We have to go. Now."

"Now, now gentleman, where's the fire?" Merle stood, easy smile and hands waving gentle to relax the excited man.

Rick huffed, fear having shaken his spine. He tries to talk but is cut off by Daryl walking into the room, that same sickly smirk on his thin face as he watches Rick from under his eyelashes. He feels that fear lick up his back again, the chill that is associated with ghosts and haunted houses. He watches as Merle gets the message, his cold and calculated eyes darting between Rick's wide eyes and Daryl's secretive looking face.  
It's quick, Merle grabbing Daryl's slender arm and smacking the boy's face hard, the younger Dixon stumbling back and running back out the house.

"You piece of shit!!" He shouts, turning and scrubbing his face before turning back towards the visibly shaken guests. "I don't know what he said or what's wrong with that boy but I apologize. He's fucked in the head and he's done this before. I'm sorry."

Shane stands, putting a hand on Merle's shoulder. "Hey man, it's all good, we understand."

"Thanks. So y'all ain't leaving, right?" Unsure eyes as the friends turn to each other. "Well you can't, it's almost dark. Ain't no way y'all be able to get back to town in the dark. Especially with the gators."

"Gators?"

"Yeah, they're more active at night. Never come by here though for some reason. Y'all should stay the night, camp in the yard."

\---  
"I can't believe we're camping in the front yard."

"Will you calm down, Rick? They're nice people. The younger one's a little strange but he means well."

Rick huffs, kneeling from unwrapping his sleeping bag. "That's easy for you to say. Do you even know what he said to me??" Shane sighs and shakes his head. "He says I looked delicious, Shane. Delicious!! What does that even mean?"

Shane laughs, resting on his side with his head propped on a fist. "I don't know, Rick! Hey... Maybe he likes you."

Rick ignores Shane's eyebrow wiggle and turns over, hoping to get some sleep before he loses his mind. He relaxes when the bayou comes to life, crickets and cicadas buzzing lowly in the dense bayou. Leaves rustle and the water babbles gentle just a few feet away and Rick finds himself asleep before he even realizes.

\---  
"Psst, wake up."

Rick blinks away, jumping slightly at the sight of Daryl face inches from his own. "Daryl? What the-"

Skinny hand covering his mouth, "Shh! Don't wake Shane up." Rick's confused, eyebrows furrowing as Daryl giggles. "You look funny like that." He pokes the wrinkle on ricks forehead before getting close to Rick's ear, whispering quieter.  
"I wanna show you something."

It's stupid, he knows it stupid but he gets up as quietly as he can, turning briefly at the form of his sleeping friend under the dark, southern night sky.  
Daryl grabs his hand, pulling eagerly back behind the house and towards the woods. At the tree line he turns, finger over his lips signaling for Rick to keep quietly. They slip into the woods and away from the starlight covered house, Rick's eyes trying hard to focus on the overwhelming darkness in front of him.  
He feels for the trees and mossy ground and keeps his eyes focused on the pale form in front of him. Daryl moves gracefully, stepping over decaying tree trunks and ducking under swamp vines as they walk for a few minutes in almost pitch darkness.

There's a clearing up ahead, moonlight dripping from the canopy and making the gnarled trees look ominous. The ground is covered in soft looking grass and he watches Daryl circle the ground, bare feet pressing some of the taller weeds downward.  
"Ain't it pretty?"

"It sure is."

Lips crash against his and hard and he stops a minute, mind racing as he takes in what's happening. Daryl's against him, thighs, hips, and chest pulled tight too Rick's while he holds his shoulders. It's so wrong, but he kisses back, opening his mouth to lick at the man's bottom lip.  
He holds onto thin hips, stroking Daryl's sides as he giggles, guiding Rick's hand downward and onto his plush ass.

He gasp, "Are you sure about this?" Daryl nods, chuckling a little and kissing Rick again. "What about your brother?"

Thin lips against his ear, that same warm breath that had lured him into the woods, "Forget him. I want you."

It's so wrong and he knows it.  
When Daryl steps back, unsnapping his overalls before letting them slip down his body. He's gorgeous and Rick had wondered why the boy hadn't worn a shirt but now he couldn't care less.  
He looks like sin incarnate, slender body bathed in moonlight, naked as the day he was born. Rick can't help but reach forward, feeling the soft skin prickle under his skin as he teases fingertips on the man's sides. Daryl whimpers quietly, trembling hands wrapping on Rick's shoulders as the black hair man's hands wander.  
He's aroused, pale skin begging him to touch and lick and bite at it. Every whimper and gasp from the mysterious man making his cock twitch and his head spin. Daryl's just as excited, his body reacting in the same as a virgins, jumping and shivering at even the lightest of touches.

He shouldn't be doing this but he can't stop.  
When Daryl leads him to the mossy floor, he follows dutifully, pressing himself against every exposed inch of his body. Rick feels a bit of guilt for having left his friend alone before Daryl is kissing it away, back arching to press against the clothes chest above him. He should be afraid, the very man who had frightened him early, with eerie whispered threats, was currently sucking on his tongue and drawing a deep groan from Rick's lungs. Heated skin against his and he's captivated, hands skimming and touching every inch and exploring the dips and curves of the beautiful body under his own.

He knows it's wrong, to force his fingers into Daryl's mouth and commanding the doe eyed man to wet them, but he can't stop. He feels a rush, pressing his fingers into Daryl's entrance, feeling the tightness mixed with the vibration of his moans. He's moaning himself, sliding the fingers deeper and deeper into the wiry man while rubbing those sinful thighs.  
He feels for that bundle of nerves and pressed hard when he finds it, massaging it and really m Daryl's body relax and open for him.  
"Please.. Rick.."  
"Shhh, I gotcha." He removes his fingers gentle before unbuckling his jeans, he pulls himself self and hears Daryl gasp. Pride swells his chest and he's spitting into his hand, stroking himself before lining up. Pressing forward, Daryl shrieks and clenches tight. "Shh, relax."

He starts slow, barely there moments making Daryl gasp and moan, thin legs squeezing Rick's sides. It feels so wrong, yet so right. The burning heat and slow drag as he works himself up to a faster rate, hips snapping against Daryl's as he moans loudly. His shirt sticks to his back and he's panting, breath hot and wetting Daryl's neck where he's buried himself with teeth and gentle kisses.  
The cicadas seem to stopped screaming, every critter saying silent and watching the two men in the clearing. The trees stop their whistling, turning their ancient eyes away from Rick as he nips and bites at pale, slender neck, cock slipping in and out of the tight, wet heat between those breathtaking thighs.  
It's too much, every minute bringing them closer and he feels Daryl stroking himself, his aching member bent towards his flat belly and leaking. He's cumming before he realizes, the world taking its own moment before continuing its mannerisms and springing back to life. Daryl shouts and covers his stomach and chest, Rick pulling out, cock softening as he listens to the bayou reenact Lazarus, every aspect having taken a death like nap before resurrecting.

"Let's head back."  
He watches Daryl pull his overalls up, in two simple moves having managed to reclaim his modesty before he takes Rick's hand. He leads them back towards the decrepit shack and Rick notices the true darkness of the world.  
When dawn is about to break, the world is cast in a deep shadow. He can't see his own hand before his face and he trusts in Daryl to settle him back into his sleeping bag. They kiss once more before Rick hears him running off, bare feet rushing up into the house and quietly shutting the screen door behind him. He can't see a thing, not the trees that surround them nor Shane in the bag next to him.

He huffs a laugh, thanking whatever God that not only had he gotten laid, but he can sleep peacefully now that Shane is no longer snoring. Little miracles, he thinks, and let's the post sex sleep take over his weary bones.

\---  
"Where's Shane?"

Merle's in the kitchen, turning towards the nervous man with a wide grin on his face. He's cooking meat in a pan, the hot grease jumping up and splashing across Merle's calloused hands.  
"Shane? Ooh! Yeah, yeah Shane. He went to town a minute with Daryl to buy me some beer. Great guy, your friend. Doing me a huge favor, really, saved me a trip."

Rick huffs, smirking and shaking his head at his rash fears. Shane had been right, these were nice people and he was letting his predisposition and judgements get in the way of a great friendship.  
Possibly even more in Daryl's case.  
His mind wanders to the night before, his connection to the youngest Dixon making him blush and rub the back of his head. He's a little ashamed, standing in the kitchen talking to Merle when not so much as 6 hours ago he had been buried deep in the gruff man's baby brother.

"Sit back a minute, buddy. Breakfast's almost done."

He has to admit the smell in intoxicating and when he's presented with a large plate he can't help but dig in. Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hot cakes, and ham. He's drooling and he knows it, taking large bites and savoring every morsel.  
"I'll tell you something, Merle. You just don't get food like this in Atlanta."

Merle laughs, taking a bite of his own overflowing plate. "That's cause this is some good-ol'-fashion home cooking! None of that yuppy shit y'all have up in those cafes and restaurants."  
He bites the sausage and chews it thoroughly, groaning and Rick can't help but chuckle.  
"Nothing like back woods, homemade sausage."

"Ooh, you made this yourself?"

"How else would I do it?"

"No, nah, I just never had homemade sausage before. It's fantastic, what's in it?"

Merle laughs, every yellowed tooth on display before he shakes his head. "Family secret, Grimes. Top secret. Hell, I haven't taught Daryl to make it yet."

"Aww, c'mon, you can tell me."

They share a laugh, Rick pressing jokingly for the recipe and Merle telling him to fuck off. Wide grins are passed between them while Rick continues to shove every bit of food down his throat.

The screen door opens and Rick is turning, smiling wide and eager to welcome Shane back and to tell his friend about the delicious meal Merle had prepared for them.  
He stops.

"Where's Shane?"

Daryl stands alone, back against the door and dressed in the same dirty overalls as the night before. Rick turns to Merle, eyes accusing and sharp, only to be meet with a strange smile before the older man goes back to his meal.  
Daryl skips to the stove, preparing a plate before sitting delicately on the plastic chair at the table. He smiles at Rick, glancing from under his long lashes before he starts to eat. The daylight plays on his face, making his usually soft angles look sharp and dangerous.

Rick's sweating, hands trembling and heart pounding at the men's silence. He can hear his own breathing and it sounds ragged and deep, his throat trying desperately to make words and failing. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears and the ticking of the unsynchronized clock that hangs above the window.

"Where's Shane?"

The room is too tight, the air having left it and it's walls closing in on Rick. It's was a meager space to begin with but now every inch seems closer, closing in as he watches Merle prepare to speak while Daryl chews quietly and giggles. It's high pitched and would've been sweet sounding if not for the uncomfortably stale air hanging above their heads.  
The gray haired man wipes his mouth, sucking on his front teeth before training his eyes to Rick's slowly with a dark and grim demeanor.

"Eat your breakfast, Rick."

It's a freight train that shakes the entire house from deep in Rick's mind when it clicks.  
His eyes go wide as saucers as he's splashed with freezing water. His heart stops only to begin again quicker and erratic, beating against his rib cage. The hairs that once stuck to his nape are on end, pointed outward as the realization hits him. He feels sick, stomach turning and he swears he's going to be sick.

But he's frozen, head spins and tilting as he looks between the two brothers. Merle smirking and taking another bite from the meat as Daryl laughs, his feet kicking and knocking into Rick's. The boy is enjoying his meal, fork held awkwardly in his hand as he bites into the "ham".  
He's sprinting, out the screen door and to the water's edge as he spills his stomach contents. Bits of "meat" splashing into the water and he feels disgusting. He needs to go, needs to find his boat and get the fuck out of here and far, far away from the shack. He has to call the police, tell them about the sick men deep in the bayou who had, unbeknownst to Rick, feed him his own best friend.

"Where do you think you're going, Rick? You didn't finish your breakfast."

Merle's in the doorway, arms crossed and revolting smirk on his thin lips. Daryl's next to him on the porch, arms behind his back and rocking on his heels cheerfully.  
"You... you fucking monsters!"

They both laugh, deep and hearty harmonizing with Daryl's high pitched squeal.  
"Now, Rick. Is that any way to talk to your friends? To talk to the man who made you breakfast?" Merle's face sets hard and dark, "I don't know what they do in Atlanta, but down here... That's disrespect. And we don't take too kindly to disrespect."

He's shaking, wiping the bile off his chin. "Fuck you! I'm getting the fuck outta here and I'm calling the cops on you sick motherfuckers!"

"After all I've done for you, you're gonna threaten me? I feed you, I gave you shelter, I let you fuck my brother... And now you're gonna threaten me?"

Rick's shocked, mouth shaped and eyes traveling to Daryl. The man is pouting, lip outward and fake quivering.  
If this had been any other moment, any other conceivable situation, it might've been cute. If Rick had meet Daryl in Atlanta, had he been some college kid or retail worker, it might've made Rick smile. If they had dated, Daryl laid out in bed and pouting next to Rick while they cuddled, it could've-

He's stopped by a shot gun cocking.

\---  
"Daryl, eat your food."

"I don't want it."

"Why the fuck not? It's perfectly good food!"

"I know, but.." Daryl looks up from under his lashes at Rick. The way the sparkling blues meet his own make him smile. The black hair curls around his ears before cascading down to the nape of his neck, every strand perfectly placed. He stares at those lips, thick and pink and ooh so kissable. Hell admit he's a bit addicted to it, the tingling he gets when he brings himself against the older man's lips and feels their tongues swirl together.  
Merle huffs, drawing Daryl from his daydream as he reaches out to pet the silky hair of his lover. He dips his fingers into the red liquid on the table, bringing it to his lips and sucking it off as he watches more trail from under Rick's head, perched perfectly on the table.

"He's too handsome to eat."

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!! I love you guys!!! Thank you!!


End file.
